


Something Like Love

by shcherbatskayas



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I'm Bad At Tagging, Irrelevant hockey team OCs, Long-Distance Friendship, Mari is a hockey player, Post-Series, Sara can tap dance while drunk, Which turns into Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 12:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shcherbatskayas/pseuds/shcherbatskayas
Summary: A figure skater and a hockey player end up at a hot springs/bar/hotel in Japan. Chaos (and possible true love) ensues.





	Something Like Love

**Author's Note:**

> The canon lesbians we all deserve tbh.
> 
> ALSO, the current docket of things to be posted after this:
> 
> 1\. Chapter 6 of Deceit (which is gonna be like, 10k and is almost done, so buckle in)
> 
> 2\. A one-shot for thewildwilds's awesome Gambler/Yakuza AU
> 
> 3\. The first part of a four-part angsty-as-hell fic that I've been planning for over a year.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this! Also, as of right now, I'm posting this from my phone, so I've fixed what I can see and will do some more cleaning once I have a larger screen! Thanks for reading <3

The party at Hasetsu started at nine and was supposed to end sometimes around midnight, but Mari figured it would last for nine hundred years. Not that she was unhappy about her brother officially becoming the second best male figure skater in the world, of course, but it just meant more work for her right before she had to head to Tokyo for her own hockey game. She knew that she would get an hour of sleep at the absolute most, but Mari would do what she had to do. It wasn’t like she was just going to let her parents do it all by themselves. 

The official beginning of the festivities was marked by the arrival of the cake, which Viktor and Yuuri took pieces of immediately after taking pictures. Not long after that, the skaters who were also staying at the hot springs (Mari could remember half of their names, but the other half were all new friends, ones who Yuuri barely mentioned before but now earned the distinction of being close enough to stay with them) came down to the bar and all Mari would do from then on was work, work, and work. She had to get every type of alcohol under the sun, produce it from somewhere if they didn’t carry it, and make sure to place her tips in her hiding place under the counter. After the incident a few years ago where her tips went “missing” and mysteriously turned up in the fund her parents kept for saving up for Yuuri’s costumes, Mari started hiding them. 

While she rushed all around and tried to remember every order she was given, Mari watched her younger brother have the time of his life. Sure, he had done something amazing, and he deserved every bit of praise he got for it, but Mari had never been given any of this. Not even when she was captain of the Japanese women's team that made it to the Olympics a few years ago. That hadn’t even warranted a cake. Somehow, somewhere along the line of their lives, Yuuri’s accomplishments became more important than hers, and Mari couldn’t help but resent him a little bit for it. But now wasn’t the time to deal with it. Now was the time to work, and maybe sneak herself a little bit of saki to get through the night. 

When Mari returned to her spot behind the bar, she noticed a very beautiful woman, tan and laughing and engaged in conversation with three different groups at once. She kept spinning in her seat in order to talk to all of them, her jet-black hair swinging out behind her and occasionally hitting someone in the face, but they would always laugh it off good-naturedly. She was one of Yuuri’s friends, one of the ones that was still fond of him even when he was in his slumps, the Italian one. The name was on the tip of Mari’s tongue. Just as she was thinking of what it could be, she beckoned Mari over with a quick wave of the hand and it hit her. _Sara_.

“Hello! Can I have--” Sara cut herself off to ask her brother what he wanted in quick, lyrical Italian. He gave her some answer that Mari didn’t know how to translate, but she didn’t have to worry because Sara did it for her. “Can I have two bottles of saki and some peach schnapps?”

“Two bottles of saki and peach schnapps, coming right up.” Mari actually managed to give her the customer service smile, the one that she should have used more but just didn’t. It tended to actually make people happy, but it was usually too much effort. Now, witnessing Sara and the way she spun around, entirely content in the middle of the most confusing party Mari had ever witnessed, it wasn’t as hard as usual. It was almost entirely natural. 

She handed out the drinks to the appropriate people and Sara produced far more money than two bottles of saki and peach schnapps warranted. “I’ll get your change.” Mari said, but Sara cut her off. 

“No, keep it! You’re Yuuri’s sister, right? You’re Mari! You should be having fun with the rest of us, but you’re stuck there, so you deserve every little whatever-currency-this-is.” Sara said, resting her elbows on the bar. “Yon? Are they yon?”

“Yen.” Mari corrected, an actual smile making its way to her face instead of the customer service one. “But you weren’t far off.”

“Yen. Yen. Yen. Yen.” She repeated the word a few times over, almost like it was a magic spell and just by saying it, she would’ve said it correctly her whole life and the fact that she said it wrong would’ve been entirely erased. It was weirdly charming and Mari almost laughed because it was just too cute. Instead, she kept her actual smile, which was small and genuine and all she had to give. 

“Mhmm. Exactly like that.” Mari said. Sara opened her mouth to say something else, but then another customer waved Mari over and she was obliged to disappear. 

Between grabbing drinks and handing out food and making sure that no one was burning the house down, Mari got to talk to Sara three more times. The first time was half an hour later when she was getting more drinks for her group. After giving the order, Sara looked at her with those shiny, purple eyes and asked a question. 

“How are you doing?”

Mari was taken off guard by the fact that someone asked her how she was doing, but she didn’t let her surprise show. It was rare that any customer asked about her, especially when they were somewhat tipsy, but here Sara was, looking like she was genuinely curious about the answer. “I’m good. Busy, but good. A lot more people showed up than we expected, but that’s not a bad thing. Good for the business, y’know? The more, the merrier. How about you?”

While she got the drinks that Sara had ordered for the people behind her, Mari listened to her answer. “I’m great! I really like being in Japan. I haven’t been here in forever, but it’s so nice. I want to stay here forever.” Sara sighed wistfully and placed her cheek in her hand for a few seconds before perking back up. “But I’m glad being here can help you guys! Your family seems great. You seem great, too.”

Mari handed out the drinks and once her hands were free, she moved some of the hair away from her face. “Thanks. You know, we all really appreciate you. You’ve probably saved Yuuri’s ass more times than I can count on one hand with figure skating stuff. If it was hockey, I could help, but…”

“Wait, you play hockey?” Sara asked, looking shocked by this information. Mari couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked about her hockey career, so she was more than happy to answer. 

“Yeah. I’m a goalie for the national team.” Even though Mari was casual about most things, she couldn’t help but let a little bit of pride leak through her voice. She had worked hard for her spot, and she eventually got it and then got the coveted spot of captain. It was hard not to be a little bit proud. 

Sara’s whole face lit up like Mari just told her that she personally fist fought a bear in Siberia and won without getting a scratch. “Really?! That’s incredible! I can’t believe I didn’t know that. You’re like, a hockey star! There are probably posters of you and everything.”

Mari chuckled and shook her head. “There are no posters, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll make you one.” Sara told her, looking like she was dead serious about the proposition. She must’ve had more to drink that Mari thought if she was planning poster ideas. “It’ll be the best poster in Japan and I’ll--Mickey, _what_ are you doing?” 

Sisterly obligations to make sure that Mickey didn’t break a table by trying to do the cupid shuffle on top of it tore Sara away, but Mari watched the scene with distant amusement. Sara was an odd girl, she decided, but Mari liked her. 

The next time Mari got to speak to her two hours later. Sara was properly drunk by that point and was tap dancing on the bar in stilettos, somehow disturbingly balanced throughout the whole thing. Once her performance was finished and she gave a proper curtsey to everyone in the bar, she spun around towards Mari. “How’d I doooooooooo?” She asked, drawing out the last syllable for so long that she had to take a deep breath afterwards. 

“You were great.” Mari said, giving her a smirk. “Drunken tap dancing is something I can’t say I’ve seen before.”

“I can show you a lot of things you’ve never seen before~” Sara told her, laughing at her own flirtiness. Mari laughed as well, even if there was a good amount of red in her cheeks. 

“Come on, you’re going to fall down from there.” Mari figured that she wouldn’t, but it was better safe than sorry, and she didn’t want to spend hours cleaning scuff marks off of the bar. 

“Catch me!” Before Mari could give herself a choice in the matter, Sara hopped down and Mari caught her. She laughed again, a melodic sound that echoed around the room, and gave Mari a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thanks a bunch, Hockey Star!” With that, Sara went back out into the party and started talking animatedly to a skater who was either French or Swiss who couldn’t stop chuckling at everything he saw around him. 

It wasn’t too long after that incident that the party began to wind down. People were tired and drunk and ready to pass out in the rooms that Mari, Yuuri, and Victor had prepared. Once the last of them found their way up to a room, Mari cleaned up the bar and then began to head to her own room. She caught a glimpse of the clock on her way up and saw that it was two thirty in the morning. That gave her…a little over half an hour to sleep. Great. 

When she woke up, Mari got ready as quickly as possible. She already had the foresight to put her hockey things into a bag and thus only needed to get a shower, get dressed, fix her hair, and sneak out as quietly as possible. It was a quick process, but while she was sneaking out to get on the four ‘o clock train to Tokyo, she ran into Sara. Her eyes were blurry from sleepiness and she was still a little bit drunk. 

“Mari! Where are you going?” She asked in what she thought was a whisper, but wasn’t even close to the concept. Drunk people, in Mari’s experience, had no sense of what volume to speak at, but it was charming that Sara was willing to try. 

“I have a hockey game today.” Mari told her. “We’re playing Mongolia.”

“Good luck!” Sara said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “What time does it start? I’m going to…Uh, what’s the word? God, English is the _worst!_ I’m going to…”

“Watch?” Mari suggested. 

“Yes! Watch. I’m going to watch and cheer for you! And your team, too, I guess.” 

Mari smiled at her, unable to believe that she was actually interested in watching her play hockey. Sure, it would probably be forgotten, but it was a nice sentiment, anyhow. “It starts at four in the afternoon.”

“Okay, I should be up by then. Mari plays hockey at four. I should write that down somewhere!” Sara started looking around for something to write with until she realized that she was in a hallway. “Once I get to my room. I’ll write it down when I get to my room.”

“A good idea.” Mari raised her eyebrows at her and then readjusted her bag. Somewhere in the depths of it, she heard her phone go off, probably a reminder from her teammates to grab the train. They all knew that she had one fault as a captain, and that was occasionally and accidentally sleeping through things. “I should head out, though. I have to catch the train.”

“Right! Trains. I’ll see you later!” Sara waved at her and then head back towards her room while Mari continued down the hallway. Before she turned the corner, Sara turned back around and yelled “GOOOOOOOOOO MARI!” 

A few grumbles emerged from the surrounding rooms and Mari actually laughed, a genuine and full sound that almost made her stomach hurt, as she walked away. 

***

The arena in Tokyo was bright and freezing, just as Mari liked it. There was nothing like the feeling of ice beneath her skates and wind on her face and ducking to catch puck after puck after puck. She always felt most comfortable in the net, watching how the offense and defense engaged in an endless war and predicting just how each shot would come her way and how she would have to stop it. She could play hockey forever if she had the time and an endless amount of energy. 

Once her team finished a round of warm ups, Marri started watching the Mongolian team. They had some raw talent, but their shots were wild and missed the goal more than once. It would be hard to predict exactly how each one would move, but after a few minutes, she started picking up on a few patterns. 

Just as she was about to call her girls back onto the ice to continue getting warmed up, Ayami tapped her on the shoulder. She was their youngest and newest member, only a few months above eighteen, and she had taken to skating behind Mari like a puppy dog when she wasn’t in net. 

“Oh, Captain~” She said in a sing-song. “It looks like you have some fans today!” 

Ayami gestured to the a spot towards the middle of the arena and there was a sign that dominated three rows of seats when it was held up. It said _Go Mari!_ in Japanese, English, and Italian and it had a few hearts doodles on it. When the jumbotron camera zoomed in on who was holding it, she saw the familiar face of Sara Crispino, surrounded by Victor and Yuuri and Yuri and the rest of the skaters. She had brought them all along with her, probably dragged them to Tokyo by their earlobes, and then made a giant sign just for her.

Despite the chill on the ice, her heart was warm. 

***

They won four to zero that night. Mari didn’t let a single shot past her, didn’t even let one get close. On every save, she could pick out an array of familiar voices cheering her name. Sara’s stuck out the most to her, high and clear like a bell above a church, and it only made her want to work harder, want to make better and better saves, want to encourage her team to keep up the work. 

Mari left long after the crowd had been ushered out and Sara had to catch her plane, but there was a note pinned to the locker room door with _Mari Katsuki_ written on it in now-familiar handwriting. Inside of it was an Italian phone number. 

Mari didn’t wait to save it to her phone and put the note in her bag. Some things were too sweet to risk losing to the unpredictability of passing janitors. 

***

After that, Mari had one more thing to add into her day: Talking to Sara. They fit in conversations at weird moments, constantly having to do timezone math to make things work. Within a week, Mari could do the conversion from the time in Japan to the time in Italy in less than thirty seconds. It was easy to do, easy to fit in time for Sara between practice and games and working at the hot springs and occasionally going out with her friends and preparations for the wedding. She wasn’t sure how she got roped into helping, but Victor had all but begged and Mari had a hard time resisting puppy dog eyes. Besides, she got to be in charge of the drinks at the wedding, and that was the best part of any wedding. 

The weird thing was, Sara never minded that Mari would complain to her about all of it. It had been a while since she had someone to complain to. Nearly everyone she had confided in previously would remind her how lucky she was, how fortunate Mari was to have problems as simple as being ignored on occasion, and she would end up feeling guilty and dumb and like she had just wasted everyone’s time. But not Sara. 

Mari was a person of few words, but Sara let her say them all and would then give her honest opinion, which was never just that Mari was being silly and needed to stop talking. It was refreshing, to have that sort of validation, the sort of validation that Mari had been denied for years. She had to think all the way back to the days before she could do long division to remember when it had been given to her as freely and without thought as Sara gave it. She didn’t even seem to know that she was doing it. 

It wasn’t too long until Mari started referring to Sara as her friend. 

She also had the privilege of collecting little pieces of knowledge about Sara. By any account, the knowledge she collected was somewhat useless, but Mari liked to know odd little things about her, liked to put them all together to make a full and realistic portrait of Sara Crispino. She learned that Sara’s favorite food in the world was her grandmother’s ziti, that she was scared of any bug that could fly, that she hated the days she had to go without skating the most out of anything in the world. She learned about Sara’s childhood, about how she and Mickey were attached at the hip and about how they both fell in love with ice skating when they watched the Olympics on TV one day because their grandmother had it on and just wanted to listen to the music that the skaters were skating to. She got to hear stories about Sara going to St. Petersburg and getting lost in a subway system so beautiful that it was like a museum, about her going up and down Italy and skating everywhere to try and introduce kids to the sport that she loved, about her breaking someone’s nose in Detroit because she was talking with her hands and accidentally smacked them full-force in the face, about her in Shanghai and New York and Paris and everywhere in the world. Soon enough, the whole globe began to remind her of Sara. 

Then, a good thing on Mari’s hockey roster. A game in Rome against the Italian women’s team. Neither of them had to ask if Sara wanted to go or if Mari wanted her there. It was only a matter of when the game was and where in Rome it would be. It was just that easy for them. 

***

Mari was used to seeing cities from a hotel room window. She had seen Rio, Toronto, New York, Barcelona, Hong Kong, Jakarta, and a few hundred more cities from the view of whichever hotel the team decided to stay at. This wasn’t her first time in Rome and wouldn’t be her last time in Rome, but something felt special this time. Once she got off the plane and got settled in her room and took a nice nap, she actually got up and started getting ready to _go out_. She had promised Sara that she would visit, and Mari wasn’t one to go back on promises. Plus, it wasn’t like she would want to avoid Sara, who intrigued her and terrified her and made her feel like the world was a place worth staying in. 

Aoi, a longtime teammate who had been her usual roommate for what felt like forever, watched her get ready with a grin on her face. “Headed somewhere fancy?”

“Mhmm.” Mari confirmed, putting a headband in her hair, frowning at it, taking it out, and then grabbing another one. “I’m visiting a friend.”

“A friend?!” Aoi moved towards the edge of the bed, her grin turning into a full-watt smile. “I didn’t know you had Italian friends! What sort of friend are we talking here? A girlfriend-friend?”

Mari took a minute to think about how to answer that. She and Sara were definitely friends, that was a fact, but she would see Sara send a string of hearts or talk to her until three in the Italian morning just because it was the only space in the day where Mari had times and she thought about how she felt about Sara, and Mari had to admit that there was something more, at least on her end of things. “I wish.” 

“Oh, so you want her to be your girlfriend? This is like, a date?!” Aoi somehow managed to look more excited than she was thirty seconds ago, which Mari thought was some sort of divine intervention. All she could do was hope that her face wouldn’t get stuck like that for forever because then she would get all of her teeth knocked out by hockey pucks. 

“...I think? I’m not sure, really. It could be a date. It could not be a date. I can’t say because I have no fucking idea.” Mari admitted with a shrug, finally settling on a headband she liked and moving on to the shirts that she brought. “Green or blue?”

“Blue, definitely.” 

Aoi put input into what she should wear for this not-a-date date, something that Mari desperately needed. Fashion had always been her weak spot, but she felt that she looked somewhat presentable and actually sort of pretty (she had never really felt _pretty_ before, never really had the chance to feel pretty) as she left the hotel to go find Sara’s apartment, which was somewhere in the maze of a city that felt like the center of the world. 

*** 

Sara’s apartment was a small, cute thing, nestled towards the center of the city. In front of it was a giant statue of a saint Mari didn’t recognize, but the plaque announced that it was Saint Dwynwen, the patron saint of lovers. It seemed fitting, somehow, as Mari entered and started looking for the fabled apartment 233. 

On her way up to Sara’s, she passed a variety of neighbors. There was an old woman with a scarf tied around her head, a gaggle of children, a young couple, a man around Mari’s age, and a woman who looked oddly familiar, but turned out to be no one that Mari knew, just someone with a familiar-looking face. That happened, sometimes. All of them greeted her in Italian, and Mari struggled to answer back with the basic greetings she had forced herself to memorize on the plane. The language sounded heavy and awkward on her tongue, but when Sara spoke in Italian, it always sounded like singing. It was unfair, almost. 

She found 233 after four minutes and knocked on the door once, and then knocked again after waiting thirty seconds. On the second knock, Sara swung the door open and broke into a smile, one of the most genuine smiles she had ever seen. Could she actually be that happy to see _her_? Before Mari could think too much about this, Sara exclaimed “Mari!” and swept her up into a hug that Mari was more than happy to return. 

“It’s me.” She confirmed, a small grin playing on her lips. They stepped apart and Mari got a good look at Sara. She was more beautiful than she remembered, more beautiful than any amount of official skating photos or selfies could ever capture, all radiant light and pure joy. Mari wondered what she looked like to her, but she couldn’t make herself ask. 

“It’s you!” Sara all but pulled her into the apartment and started talking all about her day, about how she had been so anxious to see Mari and cleaned the whole place top to bottom, about how she couldn’t wait to see the game and how was she doing, was her flight okay and was her hotel nice and was everything as it was supposed to be? Mari normally could never follow fast talkers and people who had any energy level above exhausted, but Sara’s train of conversation was easy for her to follow and go along with and more than easy, it was actually _fun_. It was just like every phone call they had ever had, but better because here, she could see Sara’s face and sit right next to her and even help her cook dinner. 

“The recipe is my grandmother’s and I promise, it’s the best ziti you’ll have in your life! Unless we summon her from Saluzzo to make it right now, then that will be the best ziti you’ll ever have in your life.” She promised while Mari set the table, memorizing the locations of the cups and plates and forks. 

“Summoning people is a lot of work, though, and I don’t know how to draw a pentagram.” Mari shrugged and Sara giggled, a familiarly musical sound that made her feel as warm now as it did the first time she had ever heard it. 

“Neither do I, so this will have to do!” 

Sara was entirely right, though. It was the best ziti Mari had ever eaten, even if it was the only ziti she had ever eaten. That didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though. What mattered was that they were together, eating a meal they had worked together to make, and Mari knew that she had to tell Sara how she felt before she left Rome or else she would implode. Most of her emotions were felt through a haze of boredom and exhaustion, but she felt so strongly about confessing that she nearly did it while helping with the dishes. 

Mari ended up falling asleep on her couch, head resting on Sara’s shoulder while a comically bad 70’s horror movie played in the background, and she couldn’t think of a time she had been happier. 

***

By all accounts, the game in Rome should have been an uneventful annihilation. The Japanese Women’s Hockey Team wasn’t known as a giant international player and their country wasn’t a hockey hub. To be fair, neither was Italy, but they were generally better at hockey than a team like Japan. It should have been something like 4-1 in Italy’s favor. 

Mari didn’t care about odds like that. Not anymore. 

“We’re going to win.” She said to her team in the middle of practice. They gave her looks that varied between disbelief, pity, and genuine inspiration. 

“Mari,” Aoi began, taking a deep breath, but Mari cut her off. 

“It isn’t a question. It’s just a fact. We’re going to win today. It’ll be a hard-fought win, but it’ll be a win. I’ll do everything I can do to make sure of that, and so will all of you. It’s that simple.” The plain, unwavering confidence in her voice was what got the team convinced that it would happen. Mari wasn’t one to say that they would win just because she wanted them to win. Something about the Italian team must have made her sure that the wind of fortune was blowing in their favor. None of them would have ever guessed that it was because of a figure in the third row, one wearing a plum-purple scarf and cheering for every single save Mari made during practice. None of them put the pieces together until later. 

The game began and the Italian team was fast and quick and offensive, but their defense was determined. They would win. They could win in this. It was just a waiting game, waiting for them to get tired of constantly having to shoot around and try to get through. Every time they approached the net, Mari managed to catch the puck and put it right back out to her team. It was a true game, fast and furious and exhilarating. Above the roar of the crowd, she could hear Sara, yelling something in English that she couldn’t quite hear from so far away, but her voice was all that Mari needed.

By the end of the first period, it was 0-0.

By the end of the second, it was 0-1, Japan. 

The game ended 0-3, Japan. 

Mari made her way to the locker room once it was all over, dragging her team behind her. 

“I told you.” She said, a small smirk on her lips. “I told you we could do it. All you had to do was think it was possible and work for it, just like we do against India and South Korea and every other country in our usual circuit. That’s all it took.” 

“It must be hard on you, being right all the time, Captain!” Ayami teased, laughing as they all got changed into their street clothes. 

“It’s incredibly difficult.” Mari deadpanned, pushing her hair back into a headband. “But hey, someone has to do it.”

She wasn’t sure how she got there, but Sara was waiting outside of the locker room, holding a bouquet of flowers and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. When Mari finally exited, she all but ran towards her, stopping just a few feet away from her. She opened her mouth to say something, something about how well she had done and how wonderful she was, but for once in Sara’s life, the words wouldn’t come. All she could do was stare at Mari. Stare at the soft, gentle face that was alight with victory and something like love.   
Mari leaned forward and pressed her lips to hers. Unhesitant, passionate and lovely, and yet so simple that one would think that they had been kissing for years. It was so _Mari_ that Sara didn’t hesitate to return it.

When the kiss ended, Sara took a step back and smiled. Yes, she had been right. It was something a lot like love.


End file.
